Florida Boogie

I just awoke from a weird dream. I loaded up a Bonanza airplane with bales of marijuana and somehow landed it in my father's backyard (a tall order since I don't know how to fly), and then I had to find a mysterious way to shove it all in a cadillac trunk where I covered it in newspaper. Ended up at the Moose lodge drinking with Michael Johnson, laughing my ass off.

Florida is a strange place.  I know I have a terrible tendency to exaggerate and that I am prone to generalize, but the place is full of gold diggers. I have seen a subspecies of women walking around wearing serious bling that makes your typical Palm Springs matriarch look like some farm marm on Little House on the Prairie.  I have been collecting stories about some of the things these broads will do in hopes of snagging a rich meal ticket.  Lots of mistresses and infidelity and a level of materialism that brings out the anti stuff hippie kid in me. So very venal the kind of deal some will settle for in life. Ostentatious Rolls Royces and Ferraris in tropical shades galloping along on the crowded avenues competing with each other for the title of base grossness.

We ate at a popular sushi bar last night, Toni's, I think.  Interesting menu - started with miso with clams and the place was all right.  But I have noticed that the bigger the city, the skimpier the fish portion.  Yamas, my faithful Fallbrook sushi den's portions are probably three times bigger.  And big city sushi joints try to be so hip that the food can be inedible.  When I was in San Francisco a few months ago with Big Dave, he took me to a place that put slices of pear on the fish and other assorted culinary bastardizations and it was just plain wrong. Wrong!

Several of you have offered to fly out and help me drive back and I appreciate it - think I will just drive slow and look at it as a challenge.  The side pain is dissipating somewhat and I think I can pull it off.  But thanks.